


Runaway

by LissaDream, Snowblind12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissaDream/pseuds/LissaDream, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowblind12/pseuds/Snowblind12
Summary: Forced to leave the UK after Voldemort wins the war, Hermione finds herself alone and on the run. Desperate for income, she makes choices she’s never dreamed of. Her one beacon of happiness is her little boy and she would do anything for him. Things become complicated when a certain Death Eater happens upon her and takes advantage of her situation. HG, SS, LM, NM, V, GW, OC.





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize, we do not own and are not making any money off it. We are no way affiliate with the Harry Potter Franchise, J.K. Rowling, or Universal Studios. We write for fun. This disclaimer will not be repeated, it is a blanket for the entire story.

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 **Synopsis:** Forced to leave the UK after Voldemort wins the war, Hermione finds herself alone and on the run. Desperate for income, she makes choices she’s never dreamed of. Her one beacon of happiness is her little boy and she would do anything for him. Things become complicated when a certain Death Eater happens upon her and takes advantage of her situation. HG, SS, LM, NM, V, GW, OC

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 ** About our AN's: ** **We realize that this first chapter has lots of notes from us as authors - this is the ONLY chapter you will find with long notes until you reach the last two that have been posted. We delete old author notes and guest responses after every two chapters. (Example, when we posted chapter 3, chapter 1's notes were removed.) We left the notes on this chapter because they do a few things: They give you the story synopsis that is too long for the little description field, they tell you about us as co-writers, they tell, they give you ways to interact with us outside of FFN, and they also give you warnings and tags for the story.  
**

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We've had Beta's in the past, but their lives are either so busy they can't keep up with our output, or they decide they no longer wish to do it. If you are interested in being a BETA for us - please PM us. What we want from a BETA is help catching mistakes - such as grammar, spelling, wrong form of a word (ie: taught instead of taut) - and structural suggestions - such as "these words can be deleted" or "you've used this word three times in the last paragraph". We are _not_ looking for assistance with plot or characters.

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 ** WARNINGS ** **:**

**_No need to leave a review OR read this story if you are going to complain about OR if the following things bother you:_ **

  1. **Character Pairing:** If you don't like a Slytherin/Hermione pairing, move on. This story is not for you
  2. **Age Difference** of Character Pairing: The age gap just ISN'T that big of a deal.
  3. **Any of the following tags:**



**_Possible_** **Adult Tags:** Adult situations, graphic sex, adult language, dubious consent, non-consensual, anal sex, BDSM, bi-sexual, Domination, submission, double penetration, Dominant/submissive relationships, exhibitionism, hurt/comfort, hand job, humiliation, heterosexual relationship, homosexual relationships, Master/slave, oral sex, rimming, masturbation, spanking, use of a variety of sex toys and BDSM implements/tools, con/non-con, bondage, suspension, sensory deprivation, orgasm denial, edging, role playing, public nudity, public sex, outdoor sex, one night stand, breath control, character death, blackmail, threesomes or moresomes. More tags to be added as necessary. Not all of these are guaranteed to be in this story.

Read at your own risk.

This story is not for everyone and we understand if it's not your thing! That's the great thing about fanfiction, there's something for everyone. Simply move on if this story isn't for you ;o)

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We read EVERY SINGLE REVIEW and REVEL in them. We do OUR BEST to respond reviews - especially if there are questions. However, the more time we spend on reviews, the less time we have to write. We really enjoy the comradery and interaction that Archive of Our Own offers, and tend to be the most active on that site in regard to reviews. Feel free to find us over there!

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 **RUNAWAY**  
by Snowblind12  & LissaDream  
BETA: Raynephoenix2

**Prologue**

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Hermione was curled up in a small ball, sitting on the wooden steps in the tent next to the glow and heat of a lantern. Ron had left them. Had felt their mission wasn’t worth it. That she and Harry weren’t worth it. She had never been so devastated in her entire life.

Music was playing quietly. She looked up when Harry held his hand out for her and took it within her own, so he could pull her up. He removed the Horcrux from her neck and his fingers caressed her skin, making her shiver involuntarily. Taking her hands in both of his, he pulled her into the center of the tent. Hermione almost laughed aloud when he started to undulate his hips to the beat of the song – sort of to the beat, anyway. She knew what he was trying to do, and she was so grateful for the distraction that she let him. He twisted and twirled her. They danced and laughed for the first time in what felt like years.

When Harry pulled her in for a hug and nuzzled her shoulder with his face, she felt a sob catch in her throat. Hermione wrapped an arm around his shoulder, setting her chin on her knuckles. The music softened as the song trailed off and they pulled apart. Looking at each other sadly for a moment, Hermione turned to leave, but Harry grabbed her hand unexpectedly and pulled her back around. His other hand came up to cup her face and her lips parted in surprise.

“Harry…?” she whispered.

“I just…” Harry trailed off and leaned in slowly, giving her time to back away if she wanted. Hermione’s heart thudded hard against her ribs – she wasn’t sure – but she also wasn’t going to deny him. They were both so…lonely. When his lips settled sweetly over hers, Hermione responded in kind and was surprised when an instant heat coursed through her. She had never thought of Harry in this way before, and the connection was shocking.

Apparently, Harry had the same feeling, because before either of them had a chance to process what was happening, they were wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. Mouths molded desperately – needy and hot – as fingers delved into tangled, dirty hair.

She didn’t remember undressing, she didn’t remember getting to the bunk. She did remember how it felt when he entered her – thick and hard and slow…so slow. Stretching, making her head fall back with a gasp of pleasure. She remembered staring into his eyes when he stilled, letting them both process what was happening. She remembered the tear that streaked down her temple, and how he caught it with his thumb and asked her if she was okay.

She remembered telling him she was perfect. Then he had kissed her again, gathering her tight in his arms as they moved together, loved together, came together. They knew after that night they could never go back – and neither of them would have ever wanted to.

The harder they worked at their mission and the longer they were alone, the closer they grew. Anyone would have thought that impossible – they had already been the best friends, after all. Always inseparable, but now it was like they were two sides of the same coin. They moved together, they finished each other’s sentences, they fought for each other, and they loved each other – desperately.

Harry knew true fear when Hermione came barreling at Nagini in Godric’s Hollow, putting herself between him and the snake and shoving them both out of the window as she Disapparated them in mid-air.

Hermione sobbed as she dragged him out of the pond with the sword of Gryffindor. He destroyed the Horcrux while Hermione watched a version of herself tell Harry he was her second choice – that she loved Ron and was only with him because Ron had left her.

They held each other after and she told him for the first time. “I thought it was Ron, Harry, but I was wrong. It was you, it _is_ you. You know that I love you, right? I love _you_!” They stripped each other of their soaking clothes when they got back to the tent and made love until the watery winter sun lightened the walls of the tent. She was drifting to sleep in his arms when he placed his mouth next to the delicate shell of her ear and whispered, “I love you, too, Hermione. When this is all over, marry me.”

“Yes,” she breathed. Without a second thought; without a second guess she agreed to be his. It didn’t matter what Ron might think, she didn’t care how it would make Ginny feel. She would follow Harry Potter to the ends of the earth and back again.

Forest after cliffside, countryside after glen, they roamed the United Kingdom, not knowing what direction to take next. Phineus Nigellus told them about the radio show and they were able to tune in and hear their friends. Curled in front of the fire, piled under blankets with cups of weak tea and a dry loaf of bread as a snack, they talked about what they should try next. That’s when Harry said HIS name and their wards came crashing down around them.

“RUN HERMIONE!” he screamed, shoving her through the tent. They ran as fast as they could, but it wasn’t fast enough. They were going to catch her. She sent a stinging hex at Harry when she knew she wouldn’t be able to outrun their attackers. Hermione knew he’d never leave her behind. They were in this together.

Harry screamed her name until he ripped his vocal chords at the Manor. When it was over, and they were safe at Shell Cottage, their world turned upside down.

“Ron’s … what?” Harry was shocked, horrified. Hermione, who was being held tightly in his arms, started to sob uncontrollably.

“Dead,” Bill said, voice trembling. “A couple months back. Snatchers. It’s been rough. Mum and Dad and the twins are with Auntie Muriel.”

Harry could barely breathe, he pulled his almost hysterical fiancée more firmly into his embrace and buried his nose in her hair. He didn’t miss the way Ginny glared at them from a shadowed corner of the room. Harry knew she was an observant girl, he knew seeing him and Hermione together like this was hurting her. Part of him would always love Ginny, but Hermione was it for him, now. She was his everything, and he wasn’t going to defend it or apologize for it.

They breathed comfortably for a few days. Ate food that filled their bellies. Buried Dobby, mourned Ron. Two weeks in, their plans for the Gringotts break-in were going well. They would be leaving in a week. Then their lives changed again when Hermione stood from the table begging off eating to take a nap late one morning and abruptly fainted to the floor.

Fleur insisted it was exhaustion – that they weren’t giving themselves the opportunity to rest more. Harry knew that wasn’t it, though. Hermione was too strong, she’d had many days full of much deeper fatigue. Bill did a diagnostic charm later in the evening, after Hermione had slept away most of the afternoon.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked anxiously, sitting next to Hermione’s hip on the small bed, holding her hand fiercely with his own. Fleur and Ginny stood in the doorway. Ginny’s face was clouded with anger, her eyes dark with malice. It was an expression he had never seen on her face before. It hit him in that moment how much his old girlfriend had changed since he had seen her last. She seemed almost taller and leaner and in this particular moment, foreboding. The war was changing them all.

Bill cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at his baby sister with apprehensive but sympathetic eyes. “Hermione’s pregnant,” he said softly.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other in shock. They had faithfully used the contraceptive charm. They said so aloud. “It’s been known to fail before,” Fleur murmured quietly from the doorway as Ginny turned silently and fled the scene. The remaining four flinched when they heard an anguished scream before a door slammed.

Fleur quickly left the doorway, going after Ginny to give the younger girl comfort. Bill cleared his throat and made a soft excuse to leave, uncomfortable with the look and emotions being exchanged between the young couple.

Tears spilled over Hermione’s cheeks and Harry quickly moved closer, grasping her face and using his thumbs to smooth the wetness from her face. “Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied with a sob. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Shh, no.” He pulled her roughly into his arm and she buried her face in his neck, sobs wracking her body. “It’s okay – hey! It’s okay! You know this is as much my fault as it is yours, yeah?” They chuckled together softly as he rubbed her back in firm, soothing circles. “I always knew I wanted to be a dad,” he told her. “I know the timing kind of sucks, but I love you.” He pressed a kiss to her head as he felt her arms cling to him even more tightly as she let out a mirthless laugh.

“The timing sucks,” she repeated incredulously. “It does, I agree. And you know I love you – we’ll figure this out. But Harry, I will not be hidden away somewhere. I go where you go. End of. I am not letting you leave here without me.”

He pulled back and cupped her face with both hands. “I would have expected nothing less from you, but you know I have to try.”

Hermione set her jaw stubbornly and it was all Harry could do not to laugh. A bubble of joy was sitting in his belly – it felt dangerously delicious. Like real happiness. “Please stay here when I leave, love,” he murmured. “Take care of our baby. I swear I’ll come back to you.”

She let out a choked sob as she replied. “Like hell, Harry James Potter. Like. Bloody. Hell.” They laughed ironically together, but he stopped as he watched her eyes light for the first time in days. Desire flamed hot and fierce in his chest. He silenced her giggles with his mouth, his hands sinking into her hair to hold her in place.

Hermione groaned against his mouth, trying to get closer to him. “I need you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke while her body slid against his. He pulled back to ward and lock the door and silence the room before setting his wand on the nightstand, parallel to hers. They both looked at their wands for a moment, it was oddly intimate, seeing the phoenix and vine wands so.

“Let’s get married now,” he pleaded. “Tomorrow. Please, Hermione?” He settled his mouth over hers before she could answer, pressing her back into the bed while pulling her night shirt up and off her slender frame.

She pushed at his shoulders, making enough room between them to divest him of his jumper. The rest of their clothes quickly followed suit and then he was playing her like a finely tuned instrument, his fingers dancing over her core. She rocked into him, begging for him to be inside her. As soon as he slipped between her folds, she came, he’d had her so close to the edge already.

“I love you, Harry,” she sobbed with her release, arching into him. “I love you!” She peppered his face with kisses before latching on to the pulse point in his neck as he moved in her, bringing her again before he poured himself into her.

“Yes,” she answered softly when their heart beats had slowed. “Let’s get married tomorrow.”

Harry and Ginny had a row that evening, when he had asked to use an owl to contact Minerva McGonagall. Hermione listened from the bed where Harry had convinced her to rest just a little longer.

“You can’t, Harry,” the younger girl insisted in hard, emotionless voice. “You know as well as I do that she’ll never make you happy. You know we’re meant to be together. It’s hilarious that you two think you even have a chance to work. She’s brainwashed you in that damn tent, Harry. You need to get your head out of your ass before it’s too late!”

Hermione’s heart clenched. Part of her ached for her best girlfriend, she had never meant for this to happen. It had just…it just was. It had to be. She couldn’t breathe without him. She couldn’t imagine how Ginny was feeling. Hermione knew how in love with Harry the redhead had always been. The way she was speaking to him was odd, though. She was so cold and self-assured when anyone who knew her would expect her to be tearful and hurt. It was clear she had changed, and not for the better it seemed.

“Ginny.” Harry’s voice was soft and kind, she could hear them clearly through the wall that separated two bedrooms. “Ginny, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this. You still mean a great deal to me…I just. Everything has changed with Hermione, I feel like I can’t breathe without her.” Hermione’s heart leapt, and a tear trickled down her face when Harry echoed her inner thoughts of just moments before. “She’s carrying my child. Ginny.” Harry broke off on a choked sob of his own when Ginny let out an enraged, inarticulate scream. “Ginny, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Ginny snarled. “Sorry. Ha. You’re not sorry, Harry Potter, but you’re sure going to be. Get out of my sight.”

Hermione tried to talk to her a couple of hours later; she tried to apologize. “Ginny,” she said softly, tapping on the door to the room the younger girl slept in. “Ginny, can we talk?”

Hermione took the silence as an okay to enter the room. She gave a little shriek as a hex missed her by mere inches. “Ginny!” she exclaimed, astonished.

“Get out! You…you… _backstabbing whore_!” Ginny bellowed at her. “You were supposed to be my _friend_!”

“I am, Ginny. I love you like a sister!” Hermione protested tearfully, deflecting another jinx.

“Sister? Oh please. News flash, Hermione. I don’t think I ever liked you,” Ginny snarled in a cold voice. “I was forced to be friends with you. Share my fucking room with you at the Burrow. Let’s admit that we simply _tolerated_ each other while pretending we were friends. And if you are delusional enough to truly believe you ever loved me like a sister? Well, I think we can bury that ridiculous notion with my buffoon of a brother’s cold, dead body.”

“Ginny, please,” Hermione’s voice trembled with tears. “You’re saying these awful things because you feel betrayed and are hurt! It just happened – it wasn’t planned. We didn’t do it on purpose. We’ve been through so much and –”

“GET OUT!” Ginny screamed. “GO AWAY!” Hermione cried out in painful surprise when Ginny hit her with a shoving hex. She slammed into the hallway wall with force, knocking her head. Harry and Bill came running.

“I’ve got Hermione!” Harry yelled angrily. “You calm your sister down,” he demanded of Bill who quickly disarmed Ginny. “If you’ve hurt her, Ginny, I’ll never forgive you!” He pulled a trembling, tearful Hermione into his arms, allowing her to hide her face in his neck.

“I’ve got you, ‘Mione,” he murmured, pressing kisses into her hair. He pulled back and brushed hair from her face, blocking Ginny’s view with his back.

“We didn’t do this on purpose, Harry,” she whispered, barely coherent. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. I didn’t mean to hurt her, it just happened.”

“I know, love.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Me, too. We can’t change what’s happened. We have to just keep pushing on. It’s okay.”

In the end, they had been able to contact Minerva McGonagall, who performed their binding, and the rest of the Weasleys made the trip from Auntie Muriel’s to witness the ceremony. Molly had been filled with saddened joy for them and she and Luna had helped Hermione tame her hair and transfigure a simple, cream colored gown. Luna wove a wreath of flowers to crown the curly-haired brunette.

“You make a beautiful bride, Hermione.” Luna hugged her tightly. “I’m very happy for you and Harry, you deserve the love you give each other.”

They gathered at sunset to say their vows with McGonagall, Luna, Dean, Mr. Ollivander, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, George, Fred, and Griphook. Ginny had refused to leave her room. They refused to let Ginny’s grief ruin their special day, however sad it made them. Hermione trembled with her happiness, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Harry whispered that he loved her against her lips as they kissed, sealing their union. No one knew they would be leaving the next morning for Gringotts except for the goblin. Neither of them knew if the other would make it out alive – if either of them would.

They celebrated surreally with their friends until the late hours of the evening. The Weasleys staying with Auntie Muriel and Professor McGonagall left around ten, taking Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander with them. Bill and Fleur retired to their bedroom just a little after. Harry and Hermione went back out to the beach and danced close in each other’s arms to the music of the waves and gulls. “I love you, Hermione Potter,” he smirked down at her and Hermione’s heart fluttered with pleasure, pulling herself closer to him.

“I love you, too, Harry Potter,” she smiled back at him. He gave her a little twirl and pulled her back to him with her back to his chest. Large, warm hands settled over the very slight swell of her abdomen.

Mrs. Weasley had been able to tell her she was about sixteen weeks along. After counting back, they realized she must have become pregnant that night in the Forest of Dean, when someone had sent them the Sword of Gryffindor. The first night they voiced their love for each other.

They made love before falling asleep in each other’s arms that night, knowing they were living in a stolen moment of peace and happiness.

Gringotts was a nightmare they just barely woke from. They lost Griphook and the sword. Hermione cried as she clung to the back of the dragon until Harry convinced her to let go, plunging them both into the freezing waters of a large lake.

What felt like minutes later, Harry was gasping. **“He knows!”** His voice sounded strange and low. **“He knows and he’s going to check where the others are, and the last one,”** he forced himself to his feet, reaching both hands for Hermione’s, **“is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it!”** he cried as he pulled her up from the ground.

**“What?”**

**“I saw him find out about the cup, I – I was in his head, he’s” – Harry remembered the killings – “he’s seriously angry, and scared, too, he can’t understand how we knew, and now he’s going to check the others are safe, the ring first. He thinks the Hogwarts one is the safest, because Snape’s there, because it’ll be so hard not to be seen getting in, I think he’ll check that one last, but he could still be there within hours –”**

“Where in Hogwarts?” Hermione demanded.

“I don’t know. **He was concentrating on warning Snape, he didn’t think about exactly where it is –”**

 **“Wait, _wait_!”** Hermione cried. **“We can’t just** **_go_ , we haven’t got a plan, we need to –”**

**“We need to get going,” said Harry firmly. “Can you imagine what he’s going to do once he realizes the ring and the locket are gone? What if he moves the Hogwarts Horcrux, decides it isn’t safe enough?”**

**“But how are we going to get in?”** Hermione was terrified, her entire body wracked with tremors. She started to cry. Harry pulled her into him tightly and whispered a charm over them to dry their clothing.

 **“Hogsmeade,”** he said simply. She gave a curt nod. They fished clean clothing out of her beaded bag and changed.

They got into Hogsmeade, then the castle. The fighting was incredible, the giants and Acromantula were horrifying. So many died – Fred, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Lupin, Tonks. They cornered Snape in the Shrieking Shack, after Voldemort left to seek out Draco Malfoy who he had just learned from their former Potion’s Master was the true wielder of the Elder Wand.

“Now, don’t be so rash,” Snape held both hands up, palms out. Neither Harry nor Hermione waivered in their stance, wands trained on their former Professor.

“Potter…I have some information for you,” Snape told him slowly. “From Dumbledore.”

“ _Don’t_ speak his name. _You_ don’t _get_ to speak his name!” Harry growled.

“We planned his death, Potter. Albus and I – together. He was dying – a curse. You remember his arm?” Snape took a step back as Harry raised his hand, his defensive stance becoming more pronounced. “I am on your side, Potter. I swear on your mother’s grave.”

This gave Hermione pause, her eyes wide with Snape’s choice of words. Her mind grasped at an inkling. She had always trusted Snape, from day one. She knew Dumbledore had always trusted Snape. Him killing Dumbledore had been a major blow to her – it made her doubt her gut. His words were making her wonder if she had always been right. It had never made sense to her. Never.

“Why would you phrase it like that?” Hermione whispered, her wand lowering a fraction. Harry heard her tone and looked at her incredulously.

“What are you doing? Don’t let your guard down Hermione, he’s fooling us!” Harry insisted.

“I don’t think so, Harry.” She turned to her husband of just over twenty-four hours. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

Hermione saw Snape visibly relax, his hands lowered at the same time her wand did. Harry looked at her as if she had three heads like Fluffy.

“Tell me why, Professor Snape,” she requested softly. “Why do you swear on Lily Potter’s grave?”

Snape searched her eyes and he obviously found what he needed. “We were friends. We knew each other since we were nine years old. I…I loved her.”

Harry’s defensive stance drooped, and his wand dropped to his side as he staggered into Hermione in shock. “You loved my mum?”

“I did.” Snape’s voice was scratchy.

“Prove it.” Harry was obviously disbelieving. Hermione took his hand and squeezed it hard.

“What was your father’s Patronus, Potter?” Snape said as he slowly drew his wand, making it clear they were in no danger from him.

“A stag,” Harry replied automatically.

“And what was your mother’s?” their professor prompted.

“A doe…”

Both Harry and Hermione gasped when Snape cast his Patronus and a doe bound around the Shrieking Shack silently before dissipating in a cloud of iridescent vapors.

“That’s…that the Patronus I saw in the Forest of Dean,” Harry stuttered.

“Will you listen to me, now?” Snape asked softly.

Hermione gasped and all three covered her ears as the terrible voice of Lord Voldemort crashed into their eardrums. **“You have fought valiantly. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.**

**“Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.**

**“You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.**

**“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”**

**Hermione shook her head frantically, looking at Harry.** “Promise me right now you will not go!” she demanded. “ _Promise_ me!”

“He cannot promise you that, Miss Granger.” Snape’s voice was deadly calm. “He must die tonight – he is a Horcrux.”

Harry’s eyes slid closed. For some reason, he was not surprised. A part of him had…had already known…had always known.

“No!” Hermione lashed out at her professor. “He cannot. He cannot die! He has to live!”

“Miss Granger –”

“I am not Miss Granger _anymore_!” she screamed at him, throwing her arms wide. “I am Hermione Potter!” Snape looked like he had been slapped. “ _He cannot die_. He’s going to be a father!” She collapsed into Harry’s arms, hysterical. The sobs were ugly, filled with gut-wrenching anguish, and caused Harry’s heart to thud painfully in his ears.

“Hermione,” he murmured, carefully smoothing hair off her forehead before tracing the line of her brow with his lips. “Hermione, it’s going to be okay.”

“Promise me, Harry. Promise me,” she begged shamelessly. “I can’t do this alone, Harry. I can’t do this without you.”

Harry looked at Snape, his green eyes large and scared and devastated. “This is the only way? Please tell me there’s another way.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” the other man said, genuinely expressing remorse. His eyes never left the sobbing girl in Harry’s arms. “If there was anything…” He trailed off.

“You’re going to have to take her,” Harry’s voice broke. He cleared his throat by swallowing hard.

Hermione became even more distraught and started pounding on his chest. “You promised you’d come back to me. You promised, Harry! How am I supposed to do this without you?” Harry grasped her head in his hands and pulled her forehead to rest against his.

“Hermione, look at me now.” His voice was hard, resigned. There was no trace of tears or fear. “I love you,” he said with complete conviction. “If there is anyway out of this, I will find it. I _swear to you_ , I will find it!” She hiccupped as hot tears continued to cascade down her face. “You know that neither of us could ever live with ourselves if we walked away from this now.

“But _promise me_ , Hermione. You must promise me that you’ll let Snape get you to safety. I will come for you if I can, I swear.”

“Harry…” she moaned, her face crumpling all over again. “I don’t want to do this without you.”

“Don’t say that! Hermione, please!” Harry was begging her. “Hermione, I can’t do this if I don’t know you’re safe. I won’t have the strength to do this if I don’t do it for you and the baby. Please, Hermione.” He kissed her then, fiercely and passionately. Neither noticed Snape subtly leave the room, closing the door tightly behind him, letting them say their goodbyes.

“Promise me,” Harry begged as he divested her of her jacket and shoved her jeans over her hips. They tangled together on a dusty couch frantically, not even fully undressing before she took him into her. “Promise me, promise me, promise me,” he begged between frantic kisses salted with her tears. When it was over, they clung to each other in silence for a long time.

“Promise me,” he said one final time.

“I promise,” she replied. Her voice was thick and resigned.

“You’ll stay safe, you’ll keep our child safe,” he pushed. She agreed numbly.

He helped her fix her clothing before fixing his own and pulling her out of the room to find Snape. Their professor was waiting for them in the furthest corner of the house. “If it goes wrong, get her out of here,” Harry demanded of a man he had despised for the last seven years of his life.

“You have my word.” Snape held out his hand for Hermione’s. She looked at it for a moment before launching herself back into Harry’s arms. Wrapping her up tightly, Harry buried his face in her hair.

“I know I’m usually stronger than this, Harry,” she whispered brokenly in his ear, “but I’m so scared. Please don’t go. This doesn’t have to be your destiny. Please, Harry.”

He held her as tightly as he could with one arm while running a hand through her tangled locks. “I love you, wife. I’m so glad I got to marry you and make you mine.” He kissed her forehead and forcibly removed her hands from his person, looking at Snape beseechingly.

“Harry!” The tears started in earnest again when she felt Snape’s strong arms pull her away from Harry, holding her with her arms pinned down just above her elbows. She scrambled for her wand to find it missing. Betrayed and hurt, she looked back to her husband only to find him running his fingers along her vine wand. “I will leave this in the other room. Hermione. I love you.” He was almost begging her to let him go. This was too hard, she was making it harder.

“Harry!” She begged, doubling over in Snape’s arms while lifting her feet from the floor, trying to pull away. He was too strong, and she was too tired – too hysterical.

“I love you, Hermione,” Harry said one final time. Then he was gone. She screamed after him until her voice gave out. She thrashed in Severus Snape’s arms until she was exhausted. Eventually, she collapsed against the man who had told her husband of less than forty-eight hours that he had to die. She sought comfort from the man who had changed her life irrevocably. She fell into a fitful, wearied sleep against the man who had told the father of her unborn child that he would never get to meet his son or daughter.

When Hermione woke, she was alone on a filthy rug. She looked around, disoriented, and reached for Harry before remembering what had happened. She sat up quickly, causing the room to spin dangerously. When she regained her equilibrium, she attempted to escape, to get back to the battle. Everything was tightly locked down. Panicking, she paced the small room.

A lifetime passed before Snape reappeared. She was hungry and thirsty and so, so tired. Snape looked awful – drained and haggard. It was the sadness in his eyes, however, that made Hermione moan with anguish as she sunk to her knees on the floor before she began to sob all over again. Heartache made her body trembled horrifically as she choked and gagged on her grief.

“He was incredible, Hermione.” Snape’s melodic baritone caressed the jagged edges of her broken soul when her shattered sorrow turned into dazed and quiet disbelief. “We won’t know what happened for sure, with him gone, but he didn’t die the first time Voldemort attempted to kill him. He came back – I don’t know how.” It was an answer to the question in her eyes that had broken through the detachment. “It wasn’t enough, though. In the end, Voldemort out-dueled him. Voldemort killed Draco – Voldemort has control of the Elder Wand.”

Hermione’s whimper made Snape’s face go soft. She had never seen her professor look at anyone with that kind of compassion. She felt like she was existing in an alternate dimension. He sat next to her on the floor and didn’t move away when she swayed tiredly into him, instead he pulled her close and stroked her hair.

“We have to get you somewhere safe, Miss Gra – Hermione.” He stumbled over her name, settling on her first name being she was no longer a Granger. “Out of the country, I think. You will be killed instantly if you are found. Muggle-born or not, you’re carrying Potter’s child. The Dark Lord will be threatened by that.”

“What about you?” It was the first thing Hermione had said since begging Harry to stay with her just hours before.

“I will survive,” Snape responded coolly. “You needn’t worry about me.”

“What about the others?”

“What others?”

“The Order?”

“Dead or captured,” Snape’s voice was bitter. “We must move, Hermione. Up you get.”

They made a series of Apparitions, finally stopping after at least a dozen different locations had passed.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking around. The town was unfamiliar.

“That last Apparation was from Dover, England to Calais, France. We are in France.” Snape handed her a wad of Muggle cash. “There is a branch of Gringotts in the magical district in Paris,” he told her. “You can get there by taking the tram from here to Lille, to St. Denis, then into Paris. Clear out your bank account, go to the America’s. Get lost in a big city. Don’t return without hearing from me. If it is ever safe for you to come home, I will find you.”

He paused for a moment before adding, “Hermione, don’t go to Australia.” When she looked startled and scared, he continued, “He will look for you there. There were rumors that’s where your parents went. If he finds them and you’re with them, you’re all dead. There’s a chance he’ll leave them be if you’re not there.” Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears again, she had just lost Harry and now she was losing her parents all over again.

“I understand,” she answered softly.

“Take this,” Snape pressed a small wad of Muggle bills into her hand along with a note. “When you’re somewhere safe, please write me via Muggle post and let me know where, the address is on the piece of paper.” After she took the money and parchment from him without a word, he settled his long-fingered hands on her shoulders. She felt so broken. His hands were warm and comforting and wet caramel eyes met and held sympathetic black. “I’m sorry, Hermione. For your loss – for our loss.” She gave another jerky nod, but didn’t trust herself to say anything. “Be safe.” He stepped back from her and, with a twist and a _crack_ , she was left utterly and completely alone. Slowly, she sunk to the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs and setting her face against her knees.

Alone. All alone. Ron gone. Her parents unreachable. Harry…oh, Harry. Silent tears pooled against her grimy jeans.

Suddenly, there was a flutter low in her womb. Her breath hitched, startled. She sat up straight and covered the small swell of her belly, holding her breath. It was there again and felt like little, tiny butterflies low in her stomach.

She gasped, feeling a purpose wash over her – feeling hope for the first time in the last miserable day.

Not alone.

She had to flee. She had to survive.

She wasn’t alone.

* * *

 ***BOLD** is taken from “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”

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	2. Chapter One

**Thanks for the wonderful reviews we received for the prologue! Lissa and I are very excited about this story and are overwhelmed by the response it has received. We wish to give a huge thanks to our BETA : Raynephoenix2.**

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* * *

It was starting to get dark and cold and the small black-haired boy on her hip rested his head on her shoulder. His left hand was tangled into the wild curls on the back of her neck and his right hand was fiercely holding the red lollipop he had been given by the bank teller. Hermione had just cashed her last traveler's check, leaving them down to their last four hundred dollars.

"Eat, eat?" the tired boy claimed as he chomped on the final bit of the candy in his mouth.

Hermione had already heard his tummy rumbling and his words tore at her heart. "I know, baby. Mummy's going to find us a place to stay and then she'll get you something to eat."

Hermione looked at the piece of paper in her hand and compared it to the number on the building to her right – they matched. Then she saw it, the small handwritten sign taped to the window; the window with black, iron bars over it. "One room furnished apartment for rent."

She quickly glanced to her right and left, years of habit preventing her from being unaware of her surroundings. Being unaware meant being unprepared and being unprepared could be deadly. _Constant vigilance!_ Mad-Eye Moody had been right. Ron's death had taught her what a simple unguarded moment could bring.

Hermione looked up at the sign hanging over the door: _Larry's Grocery_. The lights were on and Hermione could see a man behind the counter through the window. She climbed the two concrete steps and pushed open the heavy door. A buzzer went off as she entered, and the man looked up from a newspaper. He watched her intensely as she cautiously approached.

"You have a room for rent?"

The unkempt man with facial stubble and grey streaks through his black hair appraised her and then glanced at the boy in her arms before looking back at her again. "Two hundred dollars a week. Cash up-front."

Hermione swallowed. _Two hundred dollars?_ That would take half of what she had. She swallowed and nodded. "Can I see the room first?"

The man huffed and gave her an irritated look. "Fine," he mumbled with no small hint at the inconvenience. He stood, his stool making a grinding sound against the industrial tile floor before he slowly made his way around the counter. His white t-shirt had grease stains on it and his jeans hung loosely on his large, overweight frame. He approached the door behind her, his sausage fingers flipping the dirty sign so that it read _Be right back!_ He gestured for her to follow and Hermione noticed he had a heavy limp, which seemed to slow him down. A slight, breathy grunt escaped his mouth every time he stepped on his right foot.

He pushed open a door in the back of the three-aisled store and held it for her. He gestured up the steps. "Room's up there," he said simply.

Hermione readjusted Jaime onto her left hip and confirmed her wand was still holstered in her right sleeve. A flick of her wrist and it would slide down into her hand. Using it would be a last resort but following a strange man to Morgana knows where left her with no choice but to be prepared. She began to ascend the steps cautiously and could hear the man following behind. His weight caused the steps to creak loudly with their objection. She could feel his eyes on her bum and internally rolled her eyes.

When she reached the top of the steps, she entered a hallway with two doors. She moved to the side as he shuffled past her and pulled a key out of his pocket. He fumbled with the lock, having to jiggle it and kick against the foot of the door to get it to open. It finally opened with a loud scraping sound. Hermione looked down, easily seeing the problem. The door was crooked, and the bottom edge dragged along the floor as it was moved. There were large scrapes on the floor from the repeated motion. This was obviously not a new problem and Hermione realized then and there this landlord was not going to be particularly responsive to any other deficiencies she might find or encounter.

He held the door open for her and Hermione stepped into the tiny room and scanned the space. The only two windows were straight ahead and looked out to the fluorescent signs of the businesses across the street. _Checks Cashed Here_ was next door to _Pete's Pawn Shop._ Just then the windows started to rattle, and the view became blurred as a metro train moved along the track right outside. It was loud and lasted for about ten seconds. The metro trains in the city didn't confine their tracks to underground. It was unfortunate this one was right outside.

Against the barren wall to her left was a single bed and a rickety, wooden bedside table with a simple blue lamp was next to the bed and under the left window. Her gaze moved to the right of the room. In the corner there was a very miniature refrigerator, a counter with a sink and a tiny oven with a two-burner stove-top. A small microwave was attached to the wall over the stove top. She noticed a privacy screen and peeked behind it to discover a toilet and another sink. There was no shower.

She looked back at the bored man. "Shower?"

He shook his head. "Sink. No shower."

Hermione felt sick. It was a dump. It looked dirty and there was an odor she couldn't quite place. Then she realized the foul stench was coming from the man she was standing next to. She took a subtle step further away from him.

She sighed. Her options were less than limited. "Would you take one-fifty in cash? I'll have nothing for groceries otherwise," she fabricated. She looked at him earnestly and noticed a flicker of irritation cross his face as he glanced at the small boy in her arms.

"One-seventy-five but you leave a day early. Six-day rental."

Hermione swallowed. "That's fine. Thank you."

The man held his hand out with his palm up, indicating she was to pay him now. She reached in her pocket and pulled out her cash, discreetly counting out the required sum. She placed it in his palm and he handed her the key.

"Twenty-five percent discount on groceries," he mumbled begrudgingly as he once again looked at Jaime.

"Thank you...?" She lifted the end of her word, forming it as a question.

He rolled his eyes. "Larry, obviously."

"Thank you, Larry. I'm Lorelei and this is Jaime."

Larry nodded gruffly. "Alright then. Store's open 24-hours. Me or the Missus is usually here. We live down the hall." He turned away and exited, yanking the door closed behind him.

Hermione looked at Jaime, who met her eyes with his sleepy ones. The poor kid had been awake for twelve hours with no nap. She hated that they had to leave their apartment that morning, but there was nothing she could do. The landlord said the place was being audited and he couldn't rent under a cash-only arrangement anymore. He needed her full name and social security number. Because he was going to have to report the income, he needed to charge her more to the cover the taxes and insurance.

Hermione didn't have a social security number. She didn't have a bank account. She didn't even have a real name. She had made up Lorelei Margaret Gueldenzopf, a German name, claiming to be the descendent of grandparents who immigrated during the second world war.

It was imperative that her real identity never be discovered. Voldemort was in control back home and if she was found and deported back to her home country, her life would end as she knew it. It might even end all together. She hated to even imagine what would happen to Jaime, especially as he was Harry's son.

It was hard to believe it had been over two years since she had escaped to the US. She had withdrawn all her money from her Gringotts vault and exchanged it for Muggle currency. Not wanting to travel with Muggle cash, traveler's checks had been her best option. Traveler's checks did not always require ID for cashing, the signature simply needed to match. With her magical satchel in hand, she still had everything in her possession that she and Harry had needed on the run. She also had Harry's invisible cloak. Armed with the cloak, her wand, and her satchel, she stowed away on a Muggle cruise ship heading for New York City

When the ship pulled into port, she hid under the cloak and escaped when the opportunity presented itself. She had been on the run ever since. Upon arrival, the first thing she did was set up a PO box. A simple confundus charm and the Muggle postal worker had her all set up. She promptly wrote to Snape as he had requested, providing him with the address.

The first few weeks, she lived in the tent in the middle of Central Park while using concealment charms and wards to keep her hidden. The very first letter she received from her former professor warned her the trace was being reimplemented on her magic. It was like she would be a minor all over again. He warned her to use no magic whatsoever until he notified her it was safe.

To say this devastated her would be a gross understatement. The loss of her magic was almost more than she could bear. It was an instinctive and integral part of her core being. Her depression was all consuming. She was alone in a strange country, with no friends and no loved ones. Ultimately, it was for the sake of her unborn child that she pulled herself together and picked up the pieces to start anew.

Realizing the tent was not a permanent solution and being unable to renew the wards and concealment charms as they wore off, she found a cheap one-bedroom apartment to move into. If she could find a job, her life as Jane Doe Muggle could begin. The problem was that finding work had proven much more difficult than she anticipated. Due to labor laws and taxes, in order to work, she was required to present a legal ID and social security number. She had neither of these and no connections to help obtain them or magic to create them.

She had entered the No Maj world, hoping to simply disappear, but disappearing was not an easy task, especially when pregnant. She had been careless with her money at first, not realizing how difficult it would be to support herself. She had thought ten thousand dollars would last a long time, but living in New York City was expensive. Living in New York City without a job was impossible.

She hid away in the apartment until she gave birth, giving the hospital a different false name and claiming she had no ID or insurance. Hospitals in the US were not allowed to deny someone emergency care for any reason, even lack of the ability to pay, So, she waited until her water broke and it was a true emergency before calling 911. It was October twenty-fourth when the love of her life entered this world and her labor lasted just under two hours. The nurses kept telling her how lucky she was, being as he was her first, that her delivery was so quick. Two days later, when it was time for discharge, a social worker had been consulted and she'd had to escape with Jaime. James Harold was her son's name. Named after his father and grandfather. She hoped Harry would've been pleased, had he been alive.

Within two months of his birth, she had less than four thousand and dollars left. Unable to find a job without a social security number, she resorted to looking for the types of jobs in the types of places where employers would be more willing to turn a blind eye. She refused to prostitute herself but had thought she might be able to snag a waitressing job. Hopefully, she could save up for school and find a way to get a social security number and a legitimate ID.

After weeks of searching, she finally found a job waiting tables in a small strip club called _The Cherry Lounge_ , which bordered between Manhattan and The Bronx. The Bronx held the highest crime rate and lowest income of all the boroughs, while Manhattan was the wealthiest. Because of this, _The Cherry Lounge_ occasionally lured in big tippers.

As far as strip clubs went, it wasn't the worst she had seen. It was clean, and the owner paid in cash every Friday. While Hermione hated working a job in such a place, it provided much needed money and, not only that, her boss let her bring Jaime to work. Hermione wasn't the only single mom working there. The girls took turns coming in on their off shifts to watch the children in a special room set up in the back of the club. It enabled them each to work without having to pay for childcare. Hermione felt the owner was rather business savvy to recognize this as a maneuver to bring girls in to work.

The place was sporadically busy, and Hermione made fairly good tips. However, the fondling and the groping was often more than she could take. The men drank and became more and more pissed as the night ensued. As they watched girl after girl perform on the stage and strut along the bar top, they became emboldened and would take things too far. The dancers were out of reach, but the waitresses were not. Pinches and grabs as well as lewd comments were part of the job. The men were mostly blue collar, and many came straight from work… filthy and smelling bad. Cigars were allowed, and the smoke nauseated her, but she had nights where she made over a hundred dollars, although that usually only happened on the weekends. Week nights she might make thirty to fifty. The weekend shifts were a hot commodity and she didn't get to work them all. Because of that, her income was very inconsistent. Her traveler's checks had supplemented her pay, but the checks were now gone; her last one just cashed.

Hermione carried Jaime down the steps and into the store. Larry looked up and watched her as she grabbed a bottle of bleach, two cans of soup, a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a gallon of milk. She walked over to the counter where he rang her up. He took her ten dollars and forty-seven cents and watched as she went back upstairs, his eyes once again glued to the globes of her backside.

After washing a pan as well as the utensils and plates, Hermione heated up a can of soup and slathered a tablespoon of peanut butter on a piece of bread. While Jaime ate his dinner and drank his milk, she pulled an old t-shirt out of her bag and proceeded to clean all surfaces she could reach with bleach. When Jaime finished his dinner, Hermione assisted him with brushing his teeth and putting him to bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Of course, the linens that had been on the bed were on the floor in the corner. She had taken what she needed out of her satchel; Jaime's pajamas and toothbrush, her nightgown and toiletries, a small wind up alarm clock, a framed picture of Harry, and the linens she had used in the tent.

She placed the picture on the small bedside table and paused to watch Harry whiz in and out of the frame as he chased a snitch. When he caught it, he stopped and spun his broom around, smiling broadly at the camera. She had a few other pictures in her bag, but surprisingly this one had become her favorite. He was so happy in it, like he didn't have a care in the world. All her other pictures showed a more accurate representation of the stress and burden the young man harbored on his shoulders for his short life.

Jaime loved the picture as well. Hermione had told him countless times, "That's your Daddy, Jaime." Jaime would laugh as Harry zipped around chasing the exciting golden ball with wings. Jaime's first word had been Mummy and his second had been Daddy. Hermione could only laugh at the irony when his third word was snitch.

She pulled a few more items out of the satchel. Wigs and makeup had become an essential part of her life. Without use of her wand, glamour charms had become a thing of the past. Doing things the Muggle way worked to her advantage anyway. If she magically adjusted her features and were to accidentally arouse suspicion in a witch or wizard, a simple spell could reveal her true appearance. However, wearing an actual wig and heavy makeup solved that weakness. It would not likely occur to most purebloods that a witch would fool with a physical wig. A pureblood's dependence on magic left them unlikely to consider others might resort to such Muggle ways.

Each night, it was a relief when she washed her face and pulled the black, bob wig off her head. She stood behind the screen and stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Her head immediately felt lighter when she removed today's wig. She pulled the bobby pins out of her hair causing her long, chestnut locks to cascade down past her shoulders. She knew she needed to cut it but kept putting it off. It was nice to recognize herself at the end of the day. A short haircut would leave her reflection a stranger. Besides, she had lost her husband, her country, and her magic. Was it too much to want to keep her hair? She knew she wasn't being rational, but she allowed herself this one indulgence.

After washing her face, she brushed her teeth as her mind swam with thoughts of money and work. She had been working at _The Cherry Lounge_ for just under a year. Her hopes of finding someone to help her procure a new identity and a social security number had proven fruitless. There were a couple patrons who probably knew the right people, but they were rumored to be mob affiliated. One of the girls she used to wait tables with had become involved with the two men. It wasn't much later that she disappeared. That was trouble Hermione would not bring upon herselfand certainly not upon her child.

After months of persuading from her boss, as well as the other mom's who were dancers, Hermione had agreed to get on stage and take a turn on the pole. At least if she were on stage the men would only leer and drool, they wouldn't be able to touch – well, except when she let them tuck bills into her thong. She hoped there would be a lot of that. Some of the dancers made over two hundred dollars a night, and the lead dancer sometimes took home two or three times that amount. Given her financial situation, Hermione needed to make that kind of money. Waiting tables wasn't cutting it.

She had practiced a routine with the other dancers watching and they had given her pointers. Her ballet training from her youth helped a smidge. Hermione had always been limber and graceful on her feet and it was finally going to prove itself useful. The next night would be her debut. She would be introduced and would perform a solo routine before dancing alongside the other girls.

She was a bit nervous. Her boss, who went by the nickname Fly, had hinted that if she did well, he might let her dance Saturday as well. They had a couple open slots because Kate, whose stage name was Krystal Tumbler, was sick with the flu. Kate's routine was exceedingly popular as it involved a lot tumbles and rolls as she worked her way up and down the pole…usually with spread legs and a tiny string for a thong. Topless dancing was legal, bottomless was not. That tiny little bit of string (hardly more substantial than dental floss) kept her routine barely legal and she drew in large crowds.

Hermione wasn't that daring. Her thong covered as much as Fly allowed. However, her routine was creative, and she hoped it would be well received. While she was topless and wearing a thong, her performance was more burlesque in nature.

* * *

 

The stage lights dimmed, and Hermione dashed around to the back of the platform, grabbing her stringed-pearl corset and malfunctioning wig off the stage as she went. She was giddy with excitement. This had been her second performance. The prior night's show had been a hit and Fly had been impressed. She had prayed it wasn't a fluke and she needn't have worried. If anything, tonight the men were even more into it. They had cat-called and whistled and bills were thrown all over the stage. The bartender, Blake, was a pro at scooping up those bills and in return he was always given a ten percent take. Hidden cameras watched it all, keeping him honest.

Hermione slid off the back side of the bar, eager to check on Jaime. She was moving fast with her head down, not wanting to be approached or propositioned. A lot of the girls made money on the side by taking up some of those offers, but Hermione wasn't one of them. In the words of her act, she was a _"good girl"_.

Just as she was approaching the door that led to the back-stage area, she walked straight into what felt like a brick wall. She let out a small "Oomph," and lifted her gaze to see what she had walked into. A solid chest, dressed in what appeared to be a three-piece designer suit, under what was clearly an expensive cashmere coat, blocked her path. She sighed with irritation. Mr. Moneybags could find himself another girl. "Look, I'm not interested and…"

She froze and felt her stomach fall to the floor in shear panic when her gaze continued upward into the smirking face of one of the last people she would ever want to see.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

* * *

 

The wizard hated New York City, it was worse than Muggle London. It was loud and filthy, and he found Americans to be the worst kind of Muggles; uncouth and unreserved. Unlike London, New York City didn't have one large magical community. There wasn't a Diagon Alley. Instead, there were magical areas scattered throughout the large city. Some areas held one or two shops, others more than twenty. Wizards and witches lived amongst the Muggles, or No Maj as the Americans called them. He couldn't fathom living like this.

He was in New York to meet with a member of the American Magical Congress. Voldemort wanted to set up an extradition system which would require the handing over of fugitives, should they be discovered. There were several undesirables whom the Dark Lord was searching for; Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Hermione Granger to name a few. The list was quite long. It was assumed that many had fled to the America's and the Dark Lord was actively searching for them.

The put-upon wizard met with the short, fat man briefly and was told they would have to postpone the remainder of their meeting until the next day. Work on a Sunday was beyond poor taste, even if it would be a very short meeting. With a fake smile on his face and false words of understanding, he swept out of the man's office.

Finding the wizarding hotels lacking the comforts he required, the well-dressed wizard checked into The Four Seasons. The man behind the counter had been beyond irritating when he kept staring into a box and hitting keys on the strange typewriter, prattling on and on about how the hotel was completely booked. A simple confundus put an end to the dilemma and the wizard was checking into the Presidential Suite within a matter of moments.

Frustrated to be stuck in this awful city for the night, he decided a nice dinner might be enjoyable. He had heard rumors of delicious and authentic cuisine in an area known as Little Italy and decided a nice glass of chianti accompanied by a delicious meal would improve his mood considerably. He found a restaurant that looked promising and requested as private a table as possible. Halfway through his meal, however, three drunken men were seated at a table nearby. He did his best to ignore them, but they were so loud it was proving difficult. He found their conversation juvenile and crude. Clubs where women removed their clothing hardly sounded appealing. One could only imagine the types of women who would seek such employment.

He sighed in irritation as the offensive men became more boisterous. He decided to go back to his hotel, at least it was quiet there. He signaled the waiter for his check and as he was adjusting his Muggle cashmere coat, he heard something that gave him pause. "I hope that little filly, Devil's Snare, hits the stage tonight."

 _Devil's Snare? A witch, perhaps?_ _Surely a witch wouldn't be taking her clothes off in a Muggle strip club!_ Despite himself, he was curious. After counting out the American dollars and cents and leaving it on the table, he started to walk out. When he was close to the door, he paused. Unable to let it go, he stepped towards the Muggle men. "Pardon me, I couldn't help overhearing part of your discussion. The club you mentioned, where is it?"

* * *

 

A quick Apparition later, followed by a short walk, and the wizard was standing in front of his destination. The stucco building was run down with bars over the dirty windows. There was a neon cherry flashing over the door and a large sign read: _The Cherry Lounge_. Other neon signs read _Topless Dancers, Pole Dancers, 1$ draft beer on Tuesdays._

The dark-skinned, heavily muscled doorman stepped aside as the wizard walked into the dimly lit club. A huge rectangular bar stood in the middle of the large room and in the center of the oblong bar was a stage with three poles. A walkway allowed the dancers to enter the stage from the rear of the bar and allowed the dancers to move back and forth from the bar to the stage

The wizard made his way to a table along the right wall and, after a quick scourgify, took a seat. A waitress in a scant, black leather thong and bra, which had cherries sewn over where her nipples laid beneath, approached his table. As her eyes scanned down his expensive attire, her face changed from mild disinterest to covetous. She stood taller and pushed her chest out in a way she probably thought was subtle. Everything about her disgusted him. From her dyed blond hair, to her gauche red lipstick, to her outrageous and obvious assumption that he would find her appealing. She looked at him coquettishly and tried her hand at a seductive voice. "Good evening, Sir. My name is Candy. What might pleasure you this evening? A cocktail perhaps?"

Just barely resisted rolling his eyes, his voice was sharp and dismissive. "Whisky, in a _clean_ glass."

Her disappointment in his lack of interest and obvious rebuttal caused her to sigh heavily as she turned and walked away.

He looked around the club and took in the horrendous décor. Barstools along the bar and scattered round tables provided seating for up to seventy-five or so. The walls were exposed brick with many framed, autographed pictures of who knows who. The tables were cheap, the bar was in need of repair, and the clientele was repulsive. He decided this had been a bad idea. When Candy approached with his drink, he asked, "Will Devil's Snare be performing this evening?"

The girl looked at him quizzically and her jaw fell slightly, surprise clearly registering on her face. "Uhh, yeah. She'll be on stage in about thirty minutes." He wondered why the girl looked so surprised.

Candy stepped back to the bar and the wizard could hear her say to the bartender, "Lori performed _one_ time and she already has a rich John asking about her." He watched with mild amusement as the girl seemed completely undone by his enquiry. "I've been begging Fly to give me a turn on the stage and he ignores me. He begs her like a lovesick puppy and after one flash of her tits she's got a following. It's _so_ fucking unfair."

The wizard grew bored of the chit's obvious jealousy and continued to scan the room _. Hmm. Lori. If she was a witch, she would be American. Perhaps if she were attractive he might…_ He scolded himself, _As if you would resort to touching such a creature._ Granted it had been many months since his cock felt the touch of anything other than his own hand, but still…he had his standards. As a general rule, he only slept with Pureblood witches of a certain class. There had been the occasional quick use of a Muggle or Mudblood when he was in desperate need, but it had been years – since before the war ended even – that he had stooped so low. Feeling certain he was wasting his time, he considered leaving. After all, he knew he was jumping to conclusions to think this woman was even a witch. However, something begged him to wait and see. He usually had pretty good instincts – it was those very instincts that kept him alive through two wars. He sipped his drink realizing he would most likely find this possible witch to be less than worthy of his notice.

Scanning the bar, he observed that every seat had been taken and most of the tables were occupied. It appeared he arrived just before the rush. More waitresses, whose attire matched Candy's, made their way around the tables serving drinks in hopes of loose pockets as the night wore on.

A few moments later the lights dimmed, and a spot light shone on the center of the stage. Underneath, a woman was standing with her back to the crowd. The first thing he noticed was the sharp contrast of black, straight hair in a blunt short cut against the white of her costume. A costume which consisted of multiple strands of gleaming pearls and seemingly nothing else. She stood with her back facing the crowd and her left arm held up loosely draped around the pole. Her form was lithe with stiletto heels bringing focus to a magnificent set of legs. She remained still to the right of the pole with her legs crossed slightly causing her back to arch in such a way that left her bottom was prominently displayed. Her skin was pale, yet its pink hue looked soft and inviting against the pearls. It was an appealing vision, if he said so himself. Music began to play and then a woman's voice began to sing about being a "good girl". The lyrics were playful and teasing and contradicted the performers moves and demeanor. As the dancer strutted around the stage to the rhythm of the music, she shimmied her hips and breasts causing the pearls to wiggle and move, but never enough to actually display any nudity.

As the song continued, the dance became more risqué as she crossed to the bar and strutted along it's path. Men were tucking bills into her strappy heels as she stopped periodically to shimmy and wiggle some more. Her figure was lean yet somehow curvy in all the right places. Her legs were long, and her waist was slim, but her hips were a woman's and her breasts a nice size. However, what struck him the most as her track led her closer to where he was sitting, was her face. There was something familiar about it. However, it was highly unlikely this was anyone he had ever crossed paths with before. Her face was so heavily made up, it was hard to determine specific features. Her facial expressions were exaggerated to match the coquettishness of the song, making it even harder to place her.

As the song was coming to a close, she had made her way back to the main stage and was standing in the center. She turned her back to the crowd again as she shook her shoulders causing her top to come undone and slide down her long legs, leaving her in nothing but a pearl-strung thong. She turned and flirtatiously tormented her admirers as she half-heartedly covered her now exposed breasts. The riotous crowd was beside itself with frenzy at her teasing routine. The last few seconds she swung around the pole with her bouncing breasts on full display. Then it happened. When she bent over between her wide-spread legs to smile and wink at the crowd from between her ankles, the black, bob fell to the stage and a mass of loosely tucked, wild brown curls came loose. She smiled and shrugged as she grabbed her corset and wig before bowing to the crowd and blowing them a kiss.

In that moment he knew. Instantly, her identity was clear to him. He leaned back in his chair and watched in stunned disbelief as the very last person he would have guessed took the dollar bills that had been gathered by the barman. His mind raced with possibilities. _Hermione Granger. How positively delicious._

From his seat, the wizard had a bird's eye view behind the bar and stage. Before she had a chance to get far, he made his way to where the witch would be stepping down from the bar/stage. He crossed in front of her causing her to collide into him. Soft brown eyes looked up and grew into saucers as her jaw fell in shock.

Enjoying her fright, he smirked as he said, "Well, well, well. What have we here?"

Hermione was stunned. _Lucius Malfoy? Here?_ Sheer terror overcame her. There was no time to ponder the whys and hows, she needed to get away – and fast.

Pushing him hard in the chest, she tried to step around him only to have him resist her and stand firm as his right hand grabbed her left wrist.

"Now, is that any way to treat…old enemies?" He flashed white teeth in a mocking smile as the words were spoken in the same sneering drawl she remembered from her past.

Hermione knew better than to scream. Lucius would make nothing of dragging her out and cursing innocent people in his path. She couldn't bring death and destruction on the heads of the people she worked with.

"Ahh, I see you are coming to reason."

"Please, Mr. Malfoy. Just…please." She whispered in a desperate voice, her eyes darting about to see if there were any more Death Eaters around.

He laughed openly. "As much as I love it when a topless woman begs me, I find my hands are tied and I have no choice but to return you to your mother country where you will receive the greeting you so...deserve." His eyes leered lazily up and down her form as he towered over her.

Her hands, which were still full of cash, immediately shot up to cover herself. In all her months waiting tables in the club and being groped, prodded, and drooled over, she never felt as dirty from a set of eyes as she did in this very moment. Lucius Malfoy was the most despicable of men and, even in her panic, she was horrified that he had seen how low she had fallen. As though he could read her mind he jeered in his crooning and condescending voice, "My, my, my, Miss Granger. Strutting around, _naked_ , for cash. How the righteous have fallen."

"Lori, you alright?" a blonde waitress asked as she approached them. The woman's gaze moved from his firm grip on her wrist back to his face.

He flashed her a smile. "Lori and I are old friends. We go way back… don't we, love?" He released her wrist and quickly slid his left hand into hers and laced their fingers.

Hermione swallowed heavily. "Hey, Jeanie. Yeah, imagine my surprise." Hermione looked back towards Lucius and gave a large smile, which she prayed came off as genuine. "This is…George Glass. The father of someone I went to school to with."

"Well, any friend of Lori's is a friend of mine," Jeanie said as she stepped forward, still eyeing Lucius cautiously. Hermione sensed danger, the girls in the club were very protective of each other and Hermione was not the best actress.

"Hey Blake!" Jeanie yelled for the bartender and Hermione's anxiety was heading into overdrive. "You meet Lori's _friend?_ " Her tone made it perfectly clear she didn't believe their story.

Jeanie looked back at Hermione, concern etched in the planes of her young but hardened face. Lucius kept his expression flat, but Hermione could see his right hand slowly slip into his pocket. She held no doubt his wand was now at his fingertips. Realizing she needed to lighten the mood, she said simply, "George is an old friend. We parted on bad terms is all. It's already awkward – please don't make it worse. I'm fine. Really."

Blake had made his way over by this point. He looked at the tense faces. "Everything ok?"

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, just a misunderstanding. George here is an old friend who caught me by surprise, is all." She internally screamed as Blake's concern was becoming apparent. In truth, it was very suspicious. Hermione had never once had a friend come around. While she never admitted she was a runaway, it was suspected by many that she was hiding from someone or someones.

Hermione let out a breath as her eyes darted from Jeanie to Blake. "Guys, can you leave me alone, so I can talk to George?"

Blake contemplated before giving her a small, resigned nod. "Sure. Jeanie and I will be right over here…watching."

Hermione observed as the two stepped away. She spoke softly, so they could not be overheard. "Lucius, I think…"

His eyes were back on hers and his whispered tone was sharp. "We're leaving. Let's go."

"Can I just get my bag from the dressing room? Please? It has clothes in it."

Taking in her state of undress, he could not deny she needed clothing. In an unusual display of understanding, he acquiesced. "If you aren't back in one minute I'm coming back there."

"Fine," she snapped as she dashed through the door. In less than five seconds she had grabbed her bottomless satchel and threw a jacket over her half naked form. Ten seconds later she scooped a sleeping Jaime out of the small cot he was laying on. Without a word to anyone she was out the back door and in the dark alley. Jaime was still sound asleep as she started to run.

She had barely made it down the alley and to the sidewalk before the wizard was standing in front of her, blocking her path. Tears of desperation were now trailing down her cheeks as Jaime started to stir.

"So predictable, and a rather pathetic attempt actually. I find myself disappointed in you." Lucius was taking delight in taunting her.

His gaze suddenly darted to the small form in her arms that she had obviously been trying to hide from him. Lucius was silent as he absorbed what he was seeing.

A small boy.

A small boy with dark, messy hair.

A small boy with dark, messy hair…and green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione dance to "I Am A Good Girl"  
> Check it out here: https://youtu.be/YDPR5EoYqOs  
> Or on our FB page: fb.me/snowlissafanfiction


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